


Unexpected Show

by SnakesandTea



Series: Ineffable Indulgences [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental wetting, Accidents, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Coming In Pants, Concerned Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consensual Kink, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Desperate Crowley (Good Omens), Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Piss kink, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Wet Clothing, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22203631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakesandTea/pseuds/SnakesandTea
Summary: Walking home from dinner, Crowley realizes he should have stopped by the lavatory before leaving the restaurant. A bit embarrassed by his predicament, he doesn’t want to voice his need to Aziraphale. Good thing his angel is extremely understanding, and takes immense satisfaction in seeing Crowley squirm.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Indulgences [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517147
Comments: 8
Kudos: 109





	Unexpected Show

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Crowley wetting himself (unplanned); Aziraphale, of course, doesn’t care and is more than fine with it. Thank you @JuliaJekyll!!!

Crowley and Aziraphale were on their way home from a fantastic dinner. Well, Aziraphale had a scrumptious meal; Crowley mostly sipped wine and watched his angel glow brighter and brighter with each bite. He smiled, seeing Aziraphale wearing much the same expression as he looked at reflections of streetlights in the roadside puddles.

“What?” The angel asked, slightly put-out by Crowley’s stare.

He shrugged, “Nothing.” Feeling Aziraphale’s eyes still on him and not wanting to upset his angel, Crowley continued, “You’re cute…er, you look happy.”

Aziraphale blushed and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you, my dear,” he said affectionately as they continued walking. His chest swelled with the demon’s words – it wasn’t often Crowley verbalized his fondness so bluntly.

Crowley’s head was still spinning from the escaped compliment when his bladder violently twinged. They were hardly a fourth of the way back. Fuck. His heart sank as it dawned on him that he really should’ve visited the lavatory before heading home. Damn the wine. Crowley tried to quicken their pace, but the angel didn’t speed up. Instead, the demon was firmly dragged back to his side and received a stern look. Ngk. He tried to distract himself by focusing on the feeling of Aziraphale’s thumb lightly tracing his knuckles.

Aziraphale assumed Crowley’s restlessness was boredom. He was well aware the demon didn’t find the same delight in an evening stroll. And while contented that Crowley was happy to join him, the angel would be damned if he rushed through it. Aziraphale leaned his head against the demon’s shoulder, pleasantly relaxed.

Crowley, on the other hand, was anything but comfortable. A few drops of urine leaked into his boxers. He stifled a hiss and briefly considered going back to the restaurant, feigning forgetting something. Unfortunately, Crowley was certain that Aziraphale would question why he didn’t just miracle it back in his possession. He distantly recalled his angel’s _strongly suggested_ post-meal-pitstop and frowned, nixing the idea. Another urgent wave crashed over him, sending his mind reeling. Fuck. Crowley gritted his teeth, concluding he would make it home by sheer will-power – if only to avoid one of Aziraphale’s holier-than-thou ‘I told you so’ speeches. He redirected his attention to the architecture around them, wanting to see and understand that beauty his angel saw in the most mundane things.

As he and Aziraphale were debating the choice of putting a marble gargoyle atop a café door archway, a furious cramp almost knocked the wind out of him. He nonchalantly took a couple deep breaths, dully noting his crotch was, definitely, damp.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Aziraphale asked. He’d noticed that his demon seemed a bit _too_ attentive. Of course, he appreciated Crowley taking an interest in the things he enjoyed; however, not when it was ingenuine. Perhaps the demon was up to something. Best not to speculate, he decided.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Angel.” He smiled, attempting to placate the skeptical look he’d received. Crowley stifled a sigh of relief when it was returned and Aziraphale continued leading the way back to the bookshop. He fought to keep the grimace from his face as another small dribble made its way into his underpants.

Around the halfway mark, Crowley’s plans started to unravel. The demon’s abdomen was in throbbing, tight knots, and he was doing everything in his power to keep from curling up. His gait had shortened more and more with each new surge of urgency. He was dangerously close to shuffling. Crowley seriously contemplated nipping into an alley—no one would notice him taking a quick leak. Except Aziraphale. And Crowley knew damn well his fussy angel wouldn’t approve. The thought of relieving himself allowed a trickle of wee to further dampen his boxers. He stifled a groan as the sudden warmth cooled, nearly instantly, in the brisk night air. He shuddered and his tired, aching muscles let another dribble escape. With renewed determination, Crowley clenched his jaw and grabbed himself surreptitiously through his pocket, hoping the angel didn’t notice.

As they continued their trek, Aziraphale studied his demon. Crowley had been exhibiting all the tell-tale signs he needed the loo, quite badly, it seemed. He toyed with the idea that, maybe, Crowley was playing his own private game; but upon further inspection, Aziraphale noted the absence of the usual playful spark in his demon’s eyes. Oh, no. “Crowley, are sure you’re all right?” He received a brisk nod in response and left it alone.

However, fewer than five minutes later, the demon stopped with his legs pressed tightly together as Aziraphale kept striding along, still entranced by the streetlights. “Angel,” Crowley whispered harshly in a desperate attempt to get his attention. A wayward spurt jetted into his boxers. Ohshitohshitohshit. Seven seconds passed before he regained control. Crowley was quite certain the piss had made it through his jeans. Whether or not a wet patch was visible was still up for debate.

“Did you say something, my dear?” He realized Crowley was no longer by his side. “Crowley?” Aziraphale turned, looking back at the demon. His suspicions that Crowley was, in fact, remarkably in need of the lavatory were immediately confirmed. The poor thing appeared to be seconds from emptying his bladder in his more-than-damp trousers. “Oh, Crowley,” he murmured, hurrying over to his demon. “What can I do?”

His cheeks flushed a deep red as another leak seeped through his pants. “‘M sorry, Angel.” Fuck. It was one thing when they planned it— or, at least, he’d decided he was going to wet; it was quite another to have a genuine accident – in public, no less. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, dear boy.” He rested a gentle hand on Crowley’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Can you make it?” 

Crowley wasn’t sure he could, but nodded. Slowly, he proceeded, one foot in front of the other. He’d passed three store fronts before the next urge nearly sent him to the ground. Crowley shoved his hands between his thighs, clasping his cock tightly. Urine surged through his fingers, a few drops dripping on the concrete beneath him. 

Oh, dear. Aziraphale could do little more than watch his demon squirm. His cock twitched, hardening at the absolute vision before him. Perhaps, it did serve the serpent right, Aziraphale thought, recalling how snarkily Crowley stated ‘he wouldn’t need the facilities unlike some delicate angels he knew’. Divine justice, Aziraphale mused. He felt a bit guilty for enjoying the demon’s plight, and silently scolded himself for getting an erection. Of course, the desperation alone could have done him in— but it wasn’t right to get off on something which mortified his partner. No, he found he couldn’t, in good conscience, allow himself to indulge in his arousal. Perhaps later, the angel thought with an excited shiver. It seemed, somewhere during his moral quandary, Crowley had gotten a handle on things, as the demon was rapidly making his way to the bookshop door. 

Crowley grit his teeth as he practically waddled up to the entrance. His pants were soaked to the knees, and little rivulets streamed down to his shoes, leaving wet footprints on the cement. He gripped himself through the saturated denim, his mind far too clouded to miracle the door open.

Aziraphale hastened past his demon as the poor bastard danced around on the stoop. He’d hardly gotten the door an inch open when the demon flashed past him.

Crowley burst through the threshold, ready to make a run for the toilet. Unfortunately, his bladder had other ideas. Less than four feet into the establishment, Crowley felt his muscles seize up. “No,” he choked, doubling over. The tight knots in his abdomen brought him crashing to his knees. “‘M sorry angel. ‘M sorry,” Crowley mumbled as he squirmed. He knew he wasn’t going to make it, now. Fuck. 

Aziraphale closed the door. “It’s all right, my dear,” he said calmly, crossing the space between them and kneeling beside the demon.

Urine warmed Crowley’s crotch again. He tightened his hold on the head of his penis, successfully staunching the flow. A tortured groan started in his throat. Crowley didn’t want to have an accident; he didn’t want to look weak.

The angel was getting a bit worried Crowley would hurt himself. He saw a heart-wrenching blend of shame, agony, and defeat in his demon’s eyes. Divine justice be damned; he couldn’t bear that look on Crowley’s face. “Just let go,” Aziraphale encouraged.

He squirmed as another urge came and went. “No, Angel…I can’t—”

“You can, and you will,” he interrupted. “I’m not letting your pride destroy you, Crowley.”

Before Crowley could argue, heat bloomed on his thigh and rapidly spread down his leg. He felt Aziraphale’s hand on his back and leaned into it as he fully gave in, surrendering himself to the bliss of finally emptying an overfull bladder. Crowley moaned, his hot stream growing stronger, a glistening torrent fountaining through his pants. Piss splattered on the rug beneath him, pooling too quickly to properly soak into the wool. He closed his eyes as his cheeks burned. 

“It’s okay,” Aziraphale cooed in his demon’s ear. He held Crowley close while the demon wet. Truth be told, he didn’t give a damn about that rug. This was a far better use for it, as far as the angel was concerned. Aziraphale showered him in assurances that he wasn’t mad, that Crowley was safe and loved, and that the demon had absolutely no reason to be embarrassed.

Crowley’s flood dwindled to a trickle before tapering off with a final few drops. “I really am sorry, Angel,” he said, head down, staring at his mess.

“Again, it’s all right, my dear.” Aziraphale treaded carefully. “You know I enjoy it, Crowley,” he whispered. 

The demon whined. “Yeah, at home or when it’s planned. Or when I choose to.” That’s what bothered him. He didn’t _mean_ to wet. He’d had a genuine accident. He, Crowley, a 6000-year-old demon, had bloody pissed himself involuntarily. He shuddered at the thought.

Ah, so it _was_ a matter of pride. Aziraphale kissed his cheek. “I enjoy it anytime — as long as you’re comfortable. But I assure you, my dear, I take no pleasure in your embarrassment.” 

The demon found the reassurance comforting. And he’d caught his angel in a lie. Crowley smirked a little. “c’mon, you had to think it was kinda hot.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to blush. “I admit, it was quite arousing to see your face awash with relief.”

“Mmhmm?” He pressed, his chest growing lighter with the angel’s confession. 

“And perhaps, it was a bit exhilarating when you blatantly lied about your desperation then proceeded to repeatedly wee in your underclothes.”

Ngk. The way the angel phrased things made them sound positively _luscious._ Crowley felt his cock getting hard and was pleased to find Aziraphale’s trousers similarly tented. “Only a bit?” He teased, pressing his wet crotch against the angel’s erection.

Aziraphale moaned as the demon’s urine seeped through his underwear. “Possibly more than a bit,” he managed, grinding against his partner’s mess.

Crowley growled his approval and pressed a sloppy kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. Gently, he pushed Aziraphale back, laying him down onto a somewhat dryer section of the floor. Crowley straddled his angel, purring as the ethereal being bucked against him. He matched Aziraphale’s pace, his wet clothes providing a perfect amount of friction. “Mmm, yesss, there’s my naughty angel,” he whispered in his ear.

An explicit whimper escaped Aziraphale’s throat. He grabbed the collar of Crowley’s shirt kissing him violently as he edged closer to his climax. Precum coated the inside of his underwear, adding to the obscene mess. “Oh, fuck,” he whined, bucking his hips faster

Crowley choked, his angel uttering such an expletive sent him over the edge. Creamy cum painted the inside of his boxers, sticky and hot against his sensitive skin. He kept riding the angel, milking himself dry.

Aziraphale came moments later, his own seed erupting in his pants as Crowley collapsed atop him, thoroughly spent. “Oh, my dear, that was… bloody marvelous,” he panted, stroking Crowley’s hair.

“Mmm,” he managed, trying to catch his breath. “I still prefer it in bed. And planned.” Controlled, he silently amended. “But,” the demon continued, “you successfully made lemons into lemonade.”

The angel was perplexed. “I don’t follow.”

Crowley snorted. “It’s a figure of speech, angel: ‘when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.’ It means to turn a bad thing into a good thing. Like an accident into orgasms.” He paused, a big smile crossing his face, “or, piss to jizz.”

The angel couldn’t help but giggle. Ordinarily, he didn’t appreciate such crude word-choice, but he made an exception. Aziraphale adored the exuberant grin on Crowley’s face. He knew one thing for sure: he loved his ineffable demon


End file.
